Eye Masque
by MS-Manuscript
Summary: Barney always wore protection. Condoms, cups, sunglasses. But, there was that one time he forgot to be careful. Just, just one time. And it made needing any other protection null and void.
1. Oops

Characters belong to Craig Thomas and Carter Bays. Not me. Story line is my own.

* * *

Barney always wore protection. He was smart, he knew better. Condoms, cups, sunglasses. He wasn't totally an idiot. That's just a mask. He knew better. But, there was that one time he forgot to be careful. Just, just one time. And it made needing any other protection null and void. Seriously, the fight for Ted's best-friendship was a stupid fight, he knew that, Marshall knew that, Ted knew that. It was something fun, it was something they did to keep the time going, a running joke. But when it turned from a joke to a real fight, he couldn't help but feel just a bit stupid. Well, kind of. At first he didn't even notice, but hindsight is 20/20. Always 20/20.

Ted was an architect. What a stupid job, what a stupid job. No, not really, it was respectable, it was actually interesting, it was what kept him and the rest of the world in an office. But did it have to be so boring?! Did he have to say that it was boring out loud?!

"Ted, come ON! No one cares about the grain of wood and the cuts to make it stronger. You're the only one interested in that stuff." Barney sipped at his scotch, arm flung over the back of the booth, so very very close to Robin.

"Marshall, you like this stuff, don't you?" Ted was trying to get one of them on his side at least. Marshall was too much of a goodie-goodie. He couldn't say yes without pulling a face of pain. The responding face from Ted was priceless.

"Alright, _fine_! Twist my arm Ted. Your _best friend_ will go with you to work tomorrow to see what all the fuss is about." Barney smirked at Marshall's face when the blond stated this.

"But, but, _I'm_ Ted's best friend!"

"Okay, okay, hold up. How about you both just come with me tomorrow?" And that was all it took to change the topic. And to change their lives.

Barney and Marshall showed up roughly at the same time, one in a suit (guess who) and the other in painting clothes. Jeans, t-shirt, Barney couldn't help but think that might have been a good idea. But once they were inside, and the jacket was off, and they got around to actually having a bit of fun at Ted's job, the slight hesitation Barney had was gone. He had to admit, they were really having a lot of fun. Ted had shown them how to work the saw. True, he was just supposed to be supervising, just supposed to be making sure the workers measured twice and cut once, make sure that things went where they were supposed to. But his friends were there, they had taken the day off to see him and what he did, they were there to have some fun. What could be the harm?

Until Barney decided to show off. Wasn't that how it always worked? He always had to show that he was a man, that he was great at what he did, that he was awesome in everything. So when he wanted to cut a wood plank by himself, who was Ted to say no? Barney thought he had done a great job, that he had cut it straight and on the mark. He pulled the board away, sliding the safety goggles to his forehead and grinning like an idiot. He could hear the saw going on behind him, Marshall not about to be out-done by the blond. Barney turned, mouth open to comment on his friend. The saw kicked, the wood hit the blade. Ted turned at the howl of pain from a very distinct voice. Off to the hospital for Barney, again.

Everyone came after work. Ted didn't want to rush them. Last time there had been an emergency at the hospital and every was called during work, they rushed over and one of them got hit by a bus. True, the one that had done so was the reason they were going to the ER in the first place, but Ted had this image of someone taking Barney's place, like Lily, getting hit by a bus. Yeah, no. He wasn't going to let that happen. But he did call them, did have them come, did hold them outside Barney's room waiting for everyone before he explained and let them in. true, it was only waiting for the girls, but it was something. Marshall wasn't going to be there. He was in the bathroom every few minutes, every time he thought back to the image of Barney on the ground… by now he was dry-heaving, he could have done that in the trash can. But he was going to be polite as always and use the restroom.

Robin was there first, followed closely by Lily. True, Robin didn't have work at this moment in time, she could have been called earlier. But he wanted everyone there, so he waited for Lily to get out first. Robin, being Robin, wanted in immediately. Ted just shook his head. He had planted a chair right next to the door, so he could stop her if she tried to pass him. He was in a new shirt… a scrub the hospital had lent him. It was a nice scrub shirt, blue with a little white trim. The nurses were all wearing them. Stupid thing to concentrate on, but it was that or join Marshall in the stall tossing lunch.

Because the images of Barney on the saw-dust strewn floor, hands on his face… Ted had whipped off his shirt after unplugging the saw, pulling Barney's hands away, Marshall losing it right then and there…

"Ted? What's wrong? What happened?" Lily always wanted to know everything.

"We, um. Barney and Marshall… um." His mouth was filled with cotton, what was wrong with him?!

"It's my fault." Everyone looked up as Marshall joined them, looking as white as the trim on Ted's shirt. "The wood jumped, my wood jumped. I hadn't seen him there."

"Not your fault, he wasn't wearing the goggles."

"But I could have kept it from jumping."

"No, don't you remember what I told you both-"

"STOP IT!" Robin had had enough. She wanted the whole story. And she told them so.

"We were cutting wood." Marshall's voice was so soft as he sat next to Ted. "Barney, he took off his goggles and turned around. The wood, I don't know, it kicked or something. And it, it splintered everywhere. I got some in my hands, they took care of that already, see?" He held up the bandaged fingers. Lily took them in her warm hands and kissed them, hugging her man tightly. Ted knew he couldn't go on, so he finished the tale.

"Barney took a face-full of the stuff. He was bleeding really bad. I put my shirt on it, tried to keep the pressure. We called the ambulance, brought him here. He's been in his room for an hour now, he should be awake any time. The uh, the surgeon came out a while ago. We can go in and see him anytime. But, um. There are going to be some – changes – to our little group."

"Huh?" Robin didn't want to understand. She did, she got it, the puzzle wasn't that hard. She just didn't want to know. She didn't want it to be true. But it was, painfully, but it was. "Please, Ted, spell it out. Just, just say it."

"Mr. Mosby?" The group's heads shot up at the nurse that exited Barney's room. "Mr. Stinson is awake now. He requested you." There was no denying him. So in they went, Lily grabbing Marshall when she saw the gauze-wrapped upper face of their friend. Barney grinned as he heard the door open. Or, kind of. It was small, and rather un-easy.

"Hey guys, how do I look?" From his hairline to his nose was covered in white cloth. They had no idea, nor did they want to have an idea, of what it looked like underneath.

"Not bad." At least Robin was tactful.

"Well that's good. Won't be too awesome if I didn't look good anymore."

"Barney?"

"Yeah, don't Lily. I know what's going to happen. Can you guys do me a favor?"

"Sure buddy, anything." Suck up Marshall, suck up.

"Can you find the most awesome looking sunglasses for me? Please, no flowers or anything. Just because I can't see them doesn't mean I want to look like an idiot."


	2. Ouch

The door closed. Barney could hear it, almost as if he wasn't in his room but standing next to it instead. His hearing was so much sharper now; it was to be expected but it still frightened him. He heard the door close, and no feet after it. They had done as he had asked. Part of him breathed a sigh of relief, the other part… well, we won't think about the other part. The other part would make him run (as best he could) to the hall and call them back. Ted had already set up enough for Barney to get by. Ted had suggested that one of them stay that night, or him at one of their places. But he wouldn't hear of it.

"I know my apartment Ted. I might be blind but I've lived here for years." Which was true. But for if he could make it through his first night, blind, alone, in a huge… empty apartment…

Well, he had managed to find his room anyway. Without bumping into anything on the way! That had to account for something. Slipping out of the suit ted had so thoughtfully brought him for his release from the hospital, Barney fumbled around for his suit-jamas. Hadn't he folded them and left them on his pillow three weeks ago? Ten minutes later he gave up. There really was no point, his apartment was warm, his blanket (still the tiny, tiny blanket) was warm, and it's not like he had to impress anyone. No one was here. Not even himself, really. Didn't matter. So he crawled into bed, nude, curling into a ball to let his heightened senses play upon himself.

He could feel the soft flesh of his inner-thigh against his upper-arms. Could hear his pulse ringing through his shoulders that were hunched over his ears. Everything was different now. He kept calm that night. He wasn't in the mood for polishing the wand. He didn't think he would be for a while. Just feeling that he was alive would be alright. Feeling his heart, his breath, even tracing the scars around his eyes…

Speaking of which… the left one was starting to throb. Not around, no. No, his actual _eyeball_ was throbbing. They had managed to save the spheres; utterly useless now but still intact. After they had removed the splinters they didn't see any reason to… the shiver down his spine was so intense it forced him on his feet and towards his door. He hit the window. Was he that turned around?! Didn't matter, he needed his meds. He needed to stop the throbbing. He knew from experience that if he didn't the pain would travel. So he held his hand out, hating himself for it. He refused the cane, the dog, any help at all. He didn't want to be _blind_. He didn't want to be treated _blind_. He wanted to be himself. He'd figure out where everything was. So it was one hand, hesitantly held out to keep him from… no. To grab the door knob. He wasn't keeping himself from anything, he knew his apartment.

When he hit the door jamb he relented and held both hands out fully in front of him. He crashed into the couch. The couch? Had he walked right by his kitchen? How could he, he hadn't taken that many steps, had he? There, underfoot, tile. Kitchen! Or bathroom? No, he hadn't turned down the hall. No, it was his kitchen. And there, he had just hit something plastic! It rattled! Pills, perfect, they had to be his…

His what? There were two bottles of pills on the counter, side by side. And beside them were two squeeze-bottles, both eye-drops. But, which pill was for pain? Which was medication? Which drops were for infection? Which was for dryness? Four bottles, no label he could read. Even if there _was_ Braille, he wouldn't read it. Three weeks was not enough time for him to learn the complex pattern of dots and raised ridges. He'd just have to deal with it, have Ted look at them in the morning for him. Ugh, _for_ him. The thought left a foul taste in Barney's mouth. _For_ him. No, it wouldn't be for him. Couldn't be for him. He had no idea how to phrase it. It was too late for him to try, he was in pain. Just go back to bed, sleep through it. Try to ignore the pounding on the side of his face, ignore the sound of traffic he had never noticed before, so high above the ground… ignore the sound of the empty fridge kicking on, the leaky faucet next door, the wind across the window pane.

He didn't feel around the apartment. Trying to save face he started walking to his room again, bumping his nose and jumping slightly at how quickly he had hit the door. It had to be the door, there was the knob in his fingers. No, wait… he hadn't closed his room, had he? He was at his front door, had to be. So he turned around and walked again. Feet met tile, kitchen? His hand hit a door-knob as he turned to leave it, bathroom? Where was he?! More carpet, more tile… he tripped over something. It was cold, rough, he tripped over tile? That can't be? But his head hit tile, sending pain through him as it hit the swollen side of his face. Where was he?! Where was up? His head was spinning, feeling very sick as pain lanced through this head, his neck, onto his back. He tried to get up, feeling like he was falling.

Fine then, he'd stay where he was. Humph.

The door opened some hours later. Barney didn't know how long. The world, dark and cold, wouldn't stop moving. He didn't know how that was possible. There was no world to spin. But he was nauseous, dizzy… he had no idea which way was up. But the door opened. Heavy, _loud_, footsteps passed him and went down the hall. Had to be the hall, there was nowhere else to go. Which way had they gone? Didn't matter, they were back, very quickly too.

"Barney?!" Ted.

"Here." There, here, somewhere. Barney mumbled the response, groaning slightly as the movement and vibration of speaking jiggled the swollen side of his face, making his puffy eye burn. Ted's hands were warm on his shoulder, oh his hip, rolling him onto his back. He was on his side? He hadn't noticed.

"Oh God- Barney, what happened?"

"Pain."

"Why didn't you take your meds?!" Ted's voice was so loud.

"Couldn't find them." His voice was so quiet in contrast. Everything hurt, his head, his face, his brain… did Ted really have to yell?

"Okay, come on, stand up, I'll get them." The voice was calmer this time, hushed, taking a hint from the softness of the downed man. Ted practically carried him to the couch, leaving and coming back a moment later with hands full of water and pills and medication. In moments he had them sorted, pushing the pills into Barney's hand along with the water glass. They were downed almost instantly. But the pain didn't disappear as quickly as the meds had, much to Barney's disappointment. He had gotten used to morphine which was like instant God. But he knew that they'd help, after a bit of time. Ted dropped a blanket around his shoulders, let him breathe for a bit, capping the pill bottles and pulling out his pocket knife. He started to scratch on them, engraving little doodles on them as the shivers in his friend subsided and the buzz from the drugs kicked in.

"Come on, lean over."

"What?"

"Drops." Oh, right. Barney nodded, handing over his empty glass before he tilted his head back.

"Nope. You know what the doctor said. Come on."

"I am _not_ going to lay in your lap."

"You know you want to."

"Nope."

Next thing he knew Barney had his skull in Ted's lap, eyes burning as the medication was dripped into them. One minute. He had to sit there and take the burning for sixty seconds. 60,000 milliseconds. An eternity. He had to sit there and not blink out the flames. Ted sat with one eye on his watch, the other on his friend. It wasn't too bad, Barney's face.

There were scars, yes. But they would fade in a year or two. Right now they were raw, pink, some still with stitches in them. They hurt. They hurt to look at. But they weren't half as bad as what they had been. Ted felt a shiver run through him at the memory of the bits of wood in the fair-skin. Yeah, it was not pretty.

"Time."

"Oh thank God." Barney's hands flew to his face, trying to scrub out the medication that was meant to help him. They might be useless now, but it didn't mean his eyes were all better and perfect. His friends would have a hard time looking him in the eye.


End file.
